Tourist

Let's move down to the precidio.
I'll pack my hunting knife
we can move about the city at night
I wish that I could find you among the cans and bottles meant to be recycled
I don't know
sometimes I think I''ll be searching forever

Matisyahu Saved My Life

I have found a lot of inspiration from this man. He was born under the name of Matthew Paul Miller. As a young man he found inspiration in Bob Marley and reggae music. His parents sent him to Jerusalem when he was young. He came back with a interest in Judaism, converting the the Orthodox sect and entered Yeshiva in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn. He took the Hebrew name of Matthew which is Matisyahu.With a few friends that he found there they

formed a band. They had humble beginnings playing for Rabbis. They toured for a year and put out a live album called "Live at Stubbs." Remarkably it climbed the charts. They continued to tour and discovered that their blend of rock and reggae resonated in the hearts of a cross culture fan base. Jewish kids as well as hippies and Rastas came to all the shows.

Even though we have come from complete opposite poles on the music spectrum I find a lot of myself in Matis's music. I too had a sorted past and have become religious. Although our religions, once again, find themselves on two spectrum's. Matisyahu has taught me that we, and all of us, have too many things in common to call ourselves "different." Matis doesn't preach because he feels that preachers often feel that they have a corner on the truth and they want everyone else to recognize it. I have learned through his lyrics that everything on Earth has a spiritual charge or spark. I will try to see the world and its people with that same outlook. I feel like the pasts that we came from may have been dark but now we see the light, it's the same light.

Amazing Grace

You know, all this talk of the punk rock days and times that I have lived alone I don't want to paint the picture of that that is all there is to me or my life. Although fascinating, to me at least, there is a lot more positive things going on in my life at the moment. I don't want those times to really cast a negative shadow on what I am today. I live a full life, better than it has ever been. Although plagued with the occasional heartbreak, for example last week being told that I severely messed up my knee and requiring a MRI and a scope, I find that life always mixes things up but that if you are true it all ends up being a blessing. I have lived some desperate times. Times that frankly and literally keep me up at night. The thoughts of where I could have ended up and things that could have easily happened are terrifying. I have spent years in fear. The only reason that I survived is God and I am just frankly thrilled he has kept me around this long. There are things that I love here on Earth that is worth keeping around for. One of them is my wife Natalie and furry daughter Cocoa who always does the unexpected. I love music and food. I also love the continuing saga of Heidi Montague. Life now is kind of like surfing. God is the wave and if you can manage to stay on the board you are in for quite a ride. I want to hear your story so tell me. Find your own wave.

It's Time to Face What You Most Fear

So in 1991 I had come out of having a lot of problems and I moved up to Salt Lake city to be closer to my spiritual guide. I was thrilled. I had lived outside of the nest before but this was going to be my first place alone. I recall driving down 1st avenue in Salt Lake and looking at a studio a block away from downtown. I was coming apart with excitement and satisfaction that I had finally become independent. I would be paying the bills and dealing with a land lord. To describe the place, it wasn't much. It was one large room with vomit colored carpet and a walk in closet and small kitchen. After seeing the place for the first time my friend Lance suggested to not have any razor blades lying about in case you flow with the ambiance and cut yourself. The first night was an experience. The radiator made what I would affectionately call "The African drum montage." It created this very loud banging noise. In fear of it exploding I slept ion the ground in the walk in closet. This lasted months. I then gathered courage and moved up to the roll away bed. The box springs felt great. Did I mention that a mattress was not provided. I found that my spine felt rather comforting directly in between two rows of metal springs. I lived here for nine months. The winter was brutal. Cold. I met a lot of interesting people that shared the building. I met one fellow named Eric who was rather insane. I first ran in to him on my floor where he was conveniently tripping on acid and nearly destroying the screen door in the process. Later he would chew glass and show me how he could stand on his head. Some of Eric's roommates tore apart the coin operated washer in the basement and bought cigarettes with the quarters.

Speedway, I Owe You

So my friend Walter took me to my first hardcore / punk show in the summer of 89. I just remember as we came closer and closer to the venue I grew more and more unsure. The place was called The Speedway Cafe and it sat under the 500 s via duct in SLC. As I got a good look at the place it seemed unreal. It looked like the largest band of society's filth huddled near the door to a small warehouse. We got and stood in line with the band of misfits, bless their hearts, and I just had a little prayer in my heart that the guy with the seven inch mohawk didn't kick by balls up into my throat area. There were conversations occuring such "Let me hold your hair back while you vomit honey." Once we got in I was a little reassured. The walls were entirely covered by flyers of bands that had previously played there. It was quite a pantheon of punk rock. All the heavy hitters were there. Inside the place was a little deli, if you can believe it, which served punk foodstuffs, and then there was a narrow enterance to the holy of holies; the stage area which consisted of a concrete room with a three foot stage. Pretty much indestructible. The opening band was called Verbal Assult and they took music to a level I had previously not realized was possible. The funny thing is that later in 92 I would see their second to last show ever in Washington DC. Kids were flying everywhere and pretty much going ape shit. I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew that this would become a big part of my life. I would attend the Speedway Cafe regulary for the rest of its existence. Many national bands had their beginnings there. i saw Soundgarden the first time they came with about 100 other people. An interesting thing happened at that show. The bouncers at Speedway were as hard and bad ass as they come and believe me they were not shy about using their Mag Lite on your head if you disrupt the homogenic vibe. Yeah, that's like handing out speeding tickets at the Nascar 500. Anyway, One bouncer put his Mag Lite on a kids head during Soundgarden's set. The manager of Soundgarden didn't appreciate this and came out and fully bitched out the bouncer. Well the crowd had had it to, they were chanting "pussy, pussy!" I saw the bouncer's life pass in front of his eyes. If he somehow got sucked into the crowd it would be like a fat cow trying to fend off a school of prannahs. He immeaditly apologized to the kid and then he and the manager gave each other a big and sentimental hug. The crowd clapped their approval. One of the most fascinating things about the Speedway was the crowd waiting to get in. One of my favorites were the Nazi skinheads selling LSD. They were always a great installment. The Nazis were always up to shenanigins. One thing they would do was called the chicken slam. This involved one Nazi sitting a top his partners shoulders and basically running around the slam / mosh pit trying to dethrone the other Nazis doing the same thing. One time my Hippie friend, Mark, discovered the show to DRI was sold out and his ride was already in the show so he had to wait it out smoking pot with the Nazis under a bridge abutment. Speaking of hippies, they had to really check themselves as to why they were there. I remember a punk addressing a hippie casually as "You hippie" right before breaking his nose.